Tears are Forever
by Tuxedo Elf
Summary: AU - The aftermath of Forever Evil if it had occurred in the old DCU. A series of drabbles and ficlets most focusing on the friends and family of Nightwing. Part five - Alfred mourns all that has been lost.
1. Scream

**AU - The aftermath of Forever Evil if it had occurred in the old DCU. A series of drabbles and ficlets most focusing on the friends and family of Nightwing. Part one - Scream. Black Canary hears a scream not her own. **

**This little series is mostly personal wish-fulfilment – I liked Forever Evil, but felt that the emotional impact would have hit much harder before the reboot, where Nightwing had a lot more friends and connections. **

**Tears are Forever**

**Scream**

Black Canary knew that there were some sounds you never forgot. The first time she'd let out a canary cry was one of them. Then, it had seemed like the loudest, most devastating sound possible. She still recalled her own ears ringing in the aftermath. She had never imagined that the scream of another would burn into her memory so much that her own would seem to pale in comparison.

Then the Crime Syndicate came and took Nightwing, plucking him from the sky before he could even react. They'd flaunted his capture, unmasked him, beaten him, before wiring him up to the murder machine. To the bomb that only his death could diffuse.

They'd tried to rescue him. Teams across the globe had worked tirelessly to get him. She had Huntress had been working with Oracle, who had remained remarkably calm under the circumstances. Oracle's commands had come across loud and clear through her communicator, directing them to where the syndicate were holding Nightwing. The remaining members of the Justice League were only slightly ahead of them.

She'd been so close. Just a few more minutes and she'd have found a way to join them, maybe a way to stop the sequence of events with Oracle's help. She'd reassured her friend all the way, telling they'd find him, get him out – that it would be okay.

Yet when the vidfeed had popped up on a nearby screen, she'd still been too far away. She hadn't been able to do anything but watch as Batman tried and failed to diffuse the bomb. Still, she'd held out hope, right until Luthor had attacked Batman, leaving the Dark Knight trying to regain his footing, powerless as Luthor apologised quietly before suffocating Nightwing.

She still remembered the horrifying sound of the heart monitor flat-lining and the once-proud hero's head slumping forward lifelessly before the feed was cut and the screens went black.

That was when Oracle screamed.

**END**


	2. Here for You

Sorry about the long break. I've rewritten this one three times and I'm still not sure about it, but I've run out of ideas!

Tears are Forever 2 – Here for you

"Barbara..." Black Canary was actually breathless by the time she reached Oracle's home. The battle ended, she had gone to her friend as fast as she could. Oracle had been offline since Nightwing was lost, and that terrified her. Oracle was **never** offline, even when she slept there were various communications devices nearby.

She knocked again but, getting no response, tried her security codes on the doorpad. Much to her relief, there was a reassuring 'beep' and the door slid open. "Barbara?" Canary stepped in cautiously, making her way through the hall into Oracle's lounge. There was no one there. "Babs?" She had to be here... her pace picked up as she searched the place.

Finally she heard it, the slightest rubbing of wheels on a polished floor coming from the control room. Running in, she found Oracle – sitting. Just sitting, in her chair in the middle of the room. The screens were the only light, though the data on them went unseen. Her hands were clasped in her lap, something held tightly within them, though Dinah couldn't tell what. "Barbara?"

There was a stiffening in Oracle's shoulders. "What?" The voice carried less weight that she was used to.

"I... I came as soon as I could..."

"You didn't need to. I'm fine." The lie was so obvious, so blatant, that it was almost physically painful.

Dinah frowned. "Barbara... there's no shame in..."

"I **said** I'm fine... I'll make coffee." She didn't even give her friend chance to finish, shifting whatever it was into a pocket and wheeling into the kitchen.

With nothing to do but follow, Dinah did just that, standing awkwardly in the silence and watching as Barbara set about making coffee. Here, in the brightly lit room, the extent of how fine she **wasn't** became obvious. She was pale, her eyes red from lack of sleep and – she was quite sure – from crying. Other signs too, like the dirty cups in the sink – unusual for someone as meticulous as Oracle.

Canary accepted the offered cup gracefully, though she didn't know what to say. What **could** she say? Things had always been complicated between Oracle and Nightwing, ever since they were Batgirl and Robin. Both of them had admitted that at one time or another. Although there had never been a lack of love, things had always seemed to come between them. And now they were out of chances.

"Barbara, please talk to me."

Barbara's hands tightened on the cup. "What is there to say? We live dangerous lives. We take risks. Sometime they get you killed," she ground out.

"You're angry."

The cup flew across the room and shattered, coffee running down the wall.

"Of course I'm angry! The Justice League! The Titans! And... and YOU! No one saved him!" She shouted, her body shaking with rage. "All of you couldn't save **one** man!"

"We tried... tried so hard..." Canary tried desperately to get through to her friend.

"It wasn't good enough."

Dinah's shoulders slumped. "No. It wasn't. I'm sorry."

"Sorry." Barbara's voice was cold, bitter. "Well, that makes it all better, doesn't it?"

"Of course it doesn't but.. I **am**. I know what he meant to you. I'd give anything to make things right but... I don't have that power."

"You have **no** idea what he was to me." Oracle's voice dripped ice. It was true. Some things – oh, so many things – had been just between them. She gripped the wheels of the chair until her knuckles turned white. "Just... just **go** Dinah. Get out, now."

"But.."

"Out!"

Dinah winced at the venom in Barbara's voice and nodded. "Okay, I'll go. But... when you're ready – I'm here for you." Getting no response she sighed and left quietly. The door clicked closed behind her and she leaned against it, a soft sigh on her lips.

She knew she should just go, go home, let Barbara call her when she was ready. No grudge would be held – her friend was grieving, she wasn't herself. Yet, she found herself edging around the high ledge of the apartment, peering in until she could finally see Oracle again. That her outside presence hadn't activated any alerts was yet another sign of how wrong things were. Still, it let her watch.

Alone again, Barbara ignored the shards of the mug and the setting stain on the wall. Her defences down, she had no idea she was being watched as she reached into her pocket and pulled out what she'd hidden.

As she ran it through her fingers, Black Canary finally saw it for the first time. A diamond ring on a gold chain. An engagement ring, given to Barbara by Dick nearly a year ago. She'd asked him to wait.

Canary turned away as Oracle's head dropped and her shoulders shook with silent sobs as she clutched the ring in her hand, holding it against her chest as if it could heal her broken heart.

"So sorry..."

END

Erm, it's not **all** going to be doom and gloom, honest!


	3. Things of Value

Things of Value

Notes - this one is a little more N52 but still something I wanted to explore. The timelines have to be blended for this series to work anyway!

Things of Value

"Bruce?" Lucius Fox looked startled as the man walked slowly into his office. "What the hell are you doing here?" He had certainly not expected to see him anytime soon, not after what had just happened to Dick. Losing a loved one was bad enough, but like that - publicly and traumatically - Hell, it'd hit him hard and he wasn't even family, though he'd known Dick since the day Bruce took him in. Although it seemed, not as well as he'd thought.

"There's work to be done, Lucius," Bruce said tiredly, slumping into the chair behind his desk. After the past few days, playing the grieving father was surprisingly easy. He had come perilously close to being just that -again.

"Are you sure?" Lucius looked unconvinced. "You haven't, I mean... Dick he... Bruce, you haven't even buried him yet..." He shook his head. He wondered why Bruce seemed to go through so much, why he seemed to lose so many that he loved. No one deserved that. This was the second son he'd lost in only a few years.

Not to mention the scrutiny that his adopted heir being a vigilante had brought upon the family and the business. Bruce had openly denied any knowledge of Dick's activities, pointing out his circus roots, but Lucius wasn't so sure. He'd long had his suspicions about his boss and not just because he funded the League. Now, however, was not the time to bring them up.

"I... I prefer to keep busy..." Bruce ran his hand over his face. "The Justice League need funds to repair the watchtower and... There is the matter of Dick's estate... The circus they might... Need support and, well, I suppose the rest can be donated to charity... He'd like... Have liked... That..."

Lucius frowned. "The rest?"

"His money of course..." It was awkward, but it could be rectified later. He had to go through the motions, have it all legitimate.

Lucius stared at Bruce. The man wasn't anywhere near as vapid as most thought, very little got past him. And yet... Oh God. He didn't know.

"Bruce..." He hesitated before continuing, reluctant to deliver another blow."There *is* no money... I thought you knew that. Dick... He was just about avoiding bankruptcy."

Very little shocked Bruce Wayne. He'd seen too much, done too much. But he'd never expected this. "No money? That can't be... Dick was careful with money and there was plenty of it... Millions by the time you'd worked your magic, Lucius..."

"You're right, he was careful," Lucius nodded. "But he cared about people far more than money... though I suppose everyone knows that now. He couldn't get a loan for the rebuilding of Amusement Mile... To prove his commitment he offered to put every cent of his own money into it too. It worked and the bank stepped in, but when it burned down... He lost everything."

"God..." Bruce was lost for words. "I didn't know... He never said... Why didn't he say something?"

"He valued his pride," Lucius replied softly. "Like you."

He could believe that. He could count on one hand the times Dick had asked for anything - financially speaking that was - and even when he had, it had usually been to benefit others.

He put his head in his hands, thinking. "See to it that the circus gets what it needs. Then... Get a team together. If it meant that much to him, then we'll see that Amusement Mile becomes everything he dreamed of."

Lucius smiled. He really should have seen that coming. "It won't be cheap," he cautioned, though he knew it would fall on deaf ears. "And it'll be some time before it turns a profit."

"I don't care. This... Is for Dick." As would the eventual profits be. A subtle way of replacing what he'd lost and hopefully one that Dick's pride could accept.

"Of course. I'll get right on it." He looked sadly at the boss who'd always treated him so well. "You're a good man, Bruce. Not many could be so clear headed after such an awful tragedy."

Bruce smiled sadly. The reply to that was easy and usually not even a lie. "I'm used to it."

Next chapter - Amy Rohrbach reflects.


	4. Rookie

Huge thanks to my amazing friend Martha, who helped me out with this, even though it's not her fandom! (Yet... ;) )

Tears are Forever – Part Four - Rookie

Moving house had never been so easy. The two suitcases and half a dozen boxes were all that they'd had after losing everything they owned twice over. They'd barely rebuilt from their house being blown apart when the whole of Blüdhaven had been more or less wiped out. Amy closed her eyes, remembering that day. The world had literally come crumbling down, the blast tearing through the city like it was made of paper. She remembered the fear, of trying to hold it together for her family while she prepared to part from them to go and do her duty.

She remembered seeing Nightwing again, for the first time in months. Bruised, battered and carrying an unconscious teenager – a Mafia heiress, she'd discovered later. But alive and determined to help her and her family, something none of them had ever forgotten.

As if on cue there was a thump, followed by a yell of indignation, though that was almost drowned out by the outraged shriek. Amy sighed and went to see why her children were killing each other. Again.

"Emma! Justin! What are you two doing? I do not want anything damaged, we've only just moved in!" God knows they were long overdue to have a true home again.

Her daughter, eight now, looked in outrage at her five year old brother. "It was him!" She glared at the rumpled boy, still holding on to the Superman t-shirt he was wearing.

Amy raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

She let go at her mother's look and got to her feet, pointing at her brother. "He said... he said Superman was cooler than Nightwing!"

"Of course he is! Superman isn't dead!"

The comment, coming from the mouth of a child who didn't really understand the enormity of such things, hit like a knife. She was too stunned to stop Emma lunging at her brother, only recovering a moment later and forcibly parting the two. "Stop it – both of you. Emma... you can't just hit people because you don't like what they say." She did feel sorry for her though. She'd been rather smitten with Nightwing after he saved them. Not that it excused such behaviour. "Go to your room and think about that." The girl stomped off and she turned her attention to her youngest. Justin was only five and didn't really remember Nightwing the way Emma did. "Justin, that was not a nice thing to say about someone who helped you a lot. Actually, it's not a nice thing to say about anyone."

The boy blinked at her. "But you can't be cool if you're dead!"

"It's not about being cool, Justin. He was a very brave man and did a lot for us." She couldn't help but feel like a hypocrite. The first time Dick had saved them, she'd responded by sacking him from the BPD. Even though it had seemed right then, time had given her a different perspective and with that had come regret, and guilt. "I need to remember that too. And you know what? He didn't have superpowers but he did all those things anyway. I think that's pretty cool."

Her son, hesitated, clearly digesting that information. "Yeah. I guess it is."

She smiled, though it felt strained, her own emotions kept in check by sheer force of will. "Good. Now go and apologise to your sister."

He ran off and she felt the pang of regret again. It was hard to forget the months that followed Dick's dismissal, especially when learning that she'd been another pawn in Blockbuster's plan to destroy his life. By the time she offered him his job back it had been too little, too late. She'd never forgiven herself for that.

"Stupid," she muttered to herself, peeling the tape off one of the boxes. How had she let herself get caught up in that mess? How could she not have realised? And then she hadn't done anything useful when he seemed to fall apart and simply vanished, leaving her fearing the worst.

It spoke volumes that her over-riding memory of the day Blüdhaven fell was of seeing him alive.

Reaching into the box, something snagged on her shirt and she pulled it. As if mocking her, a police shield – his shield – fell into her hand. She'd kept it long after there was any hope of them working together again. "You were a good cop, rookie..." She closed her eyes, feeling the edge of the badge cutting into her hand. She'd told him that once. He hadn't believed her.

She'd always hoped to see him again, but she never had. He'd been in the news from time to time, New York for a while, then Gotham, though often there was long gaps between appearances. And then sometimes he'd reappear only for her to wonder why he always seemed to get the raw end of the deal. The story of Amusement Mile had been horrific just to read about – what had it done to him? Then when he'd hit the news in Chicago, she'd hoped he'd found a new place to call home.

He'd been caught in pictures, leaping and smiling.

Happy.

For a while.

She'd been relieved, glad that he seemed to have found his place at last. For the first time in years, she'd stopped worrying quite so much.

Then the world had found itself under attack once more. One day she'd turned on the news to see him in the public eye again in the worst possible way.

Broken. Battered. Defeated. Unmasked.

She'd watched in growing horror as the events unfolded, unable to do anything but see it play out on the news. She'd held onto hope though, he had all those friends, powerful friends, willing to do anything to save him.

How had they failed?

She still had nightmares about watching him die. Maybe she always would. Moving away from the box, she rubbed a hand over her face. It wasn't fair. Life wasn't, of course, but this seemed particularly cruel.

She was too absorbed in thought to hear someone entering the room.

"Hon? You okay?" Jim stepped into the room to see his wife standing silently by the window. "Need help unpacking?"

She snorted, looking at him and trying to shake her dark mood. Even though it had been nearly three years since Blüdhaven, living with family meant they still had very little. "I think I can manage."

He nodded, stepping closer. "Didn't think it was that. What's that you've got?"

She opened her hand, revealed the shield.

He didn't need to ask whose it was. He'd accepted the odd friendship she'd had with the vigilante. "He knew the risks, you know. Same as you do."

"I know." She smiled slightly. "I don't go jumping off rooftops though."

"Well, risk is relative," he chuckled softly. "Hon... I know you miss him. I mean... that's why we're here, right? Why we came to Chicago, when you could have applied for any police department in the country."

She couldn't meet his eyes as she nodded. "I should have told you. I'm sorry."

He pulled her close, kissing her softly. "You didn't have to. I'm your husband, I see these things. And I understand, even though I was really hoping for Hawaii."

Amy chuckled, leaning into him and feeling the mood lighten with his embrace. "You are the best husband. I love you, you know that? You've done so much for me – put up with more than any husband should. But... he did so much for us. We wouldn't be alive today if not for him. We lost Blüdhaven, but Chicago is still here - and he's not." She pressed into Jim's arms, letting him drown out the world. She was lucky, luckier than Nightwing had been. Which was why, being here... "It was the least I could do."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx


	5. Ashes to Ashes

Squeezing in one last update before my life goes crazy for a week or two!

Tears are Forever – Part 5

Ashes to Ashes

xxxxx

Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust.

Dust on the pictures above the fireplace.

Dust in the rooms that would never be used again.

Dust on the latest in the line of trophy cases in the cave.

He cleaned them of course, that was what he did. Cleaned and tried to stop the dust from touching them. Dust meant something was sitting, stagnant, unmoving. Dead.

He had to keep things moving. Alive. Just as he'd been doing for decades. It grew harder each time though. With each new memorial, each funeral, the dust seemed to settle in his heart a little more. The duster clutched in his ageing hands, Alfred wondered at his own life. Lucky, some would say, to have lived so long. But a life witnessing so much death – it wasn't lucky. It was slow torture.

Standing back, he looked at the line of cases, each uniform a tribute to a fallen son. Jason's first. He'd come back, but so changed, the boy, the young hero was still dead. He barely recognised the angry man who used that name these days.

Then Damian's. That was still an open wound. Perhaps it always would be. He knew, deep down, that only one to blame for his death was the monster who put the sword through him, however he would forever blame himself for letting him out that night. Dick had blamed himself too. For not being fast enough, for getting knocked out and not protecting him.

Dick. Usually sure steps faltered as he approached the last, newest case. Usually steady hands shook as he wiped the cloth over the glass. He still remembered the day Bruce brought the grieving and traumatised acrobat home. He'd feared for the boy then, remembering how Bruce had been after the death of his parents.

But Dick was different. Though aching at his loss, it wasn't long before his natural resilience and sunny nature broke through the grief. He had filled their world with life and colour that had never been seen before or since. Always so ready with a smile and a joke, even Bruce's many grim moods had been broken by the optimistic, happy boy.

Years had changed him of course, the life he'd chosen making its mark. But he was always optimistic, hopeful, even in the grimmest of situations. Most likely – until the end.

Alfred's practised, stoic demeanour faltered as he looked at the uniform. Why clean the case? No matter what he did, the dust would return. Even though he tried to keep things moving, alive – it was, in the end, a futile task.

"No more." The duster dropped from his hand as his voice echoed against the high walls of the cave. There would be no more Robins. The name was a curse. Even those who survived it suffered too much for it to be justified. No matter who Bruce found, how he argued it, he wouldn't allow it. These were children, children he'd raised, been a father or grandfather to. He couldn't go through losing any more.

Turning, Alfred walked slowly to the stairs, leaving the cave behind him, the duster forgotten by Nightwing's uniform.

As he left, the secret door closing behind him, the draft threw up the dust on the ground.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx


End file.
